


Three Kisses

by Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells/pseuds/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three people who kissed Hermione Jean Granger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Kisses

Hermione Granger had only ever kissed three people; most people, however, only knew about two, the first and the third. In fact, only she and two others knew about the second, and only one of those two still remained. The other, she knew, would never tell. These are their stories.

First

Her first kiss, of course, came from Viktor Krum, Quidditch player extraordinaire and Durmstrang Triwizard champion. His surprising attention and flattery initially convinced her to accompany him to the Yule Ball. It had really been quite sweet, the way he blushed and stammered while asking her (Hermo-ninny, vould you, uh, like to go the Yule Ball vith me? If you don’t vant to, of course…but if you do, I vould very much like…), and she was determined to see past the myth and legend surrounding him. So, dressed in a shimmering periwinkle gown and feeling exhilarated and a little giddy, she walked to meet Krum.

After the initial awkwardness of the circumstances faded, she discovered she actually enjoyed talking to him. She did do most of talking, and she almost wished he would be a little less reticent, but he also listened more attentively to her than Ron or Harry ever did, more attentively than anyone ever had in fact. They sat at one of the lusciously decorated tables, and she began talking about her interest in Magical Law and the challenges she faced in starting S.P.E.W.

“…I just don’t think it’s fair to have laws which affect so many different races, such diverse groups, and to not allow for proper representation under the law. Where are the goblins in the ministry? Where are the house elves? Merpeople? I mean, admittedly, I don’t know as much as I should about merpeople and their culture, but I’m sure that wizards haven’t always dealt with them as fairly as we should, and—

“You care very much about everyone, don’t you?”

She blushed a little. “I suppose, I just care about ensuring that everyone has equal representation and equal opportunity to live how they want to. That might mean some reeducation in the case of house elves, but I think that’s not too much to—

“It is a good quality. You do not need to explain yourself to me.”

She blushed again. “I guess I’m just used to having to spell everything out for Ron and Harry. Ron especially, he can be so obtuse at times.”

“Do you vant to talk about him right now?” Krum’s voice was measured, but his eyes told her something important hinged on the answer to this question. She paused a moment.

“No,” she said quietly. “No, I don’t.”

“I vould like to kiss you now. If you vant me to.”

“Only if we go somewhere no one else can see us.”

He looked confused for a moment. “You don’t vant anyone to see us kissing?”

“I just think that I don’t want my first kiss to be in front of the entire school. I was kind of hoping it could just be, you know, the two of us.” She trailed off a little at the end, unsure of herself.

Krum’s grin split open his face. She might not have shared Ron or Harry’s fervor for Quidditch, but she could still appreciate Krum’s strange sort of attractivenss This grin tinged his expression with a softness that weakened her knees.

Most girls vould love to be seen with me.”

“Don’t think too much of yourself just yet.”

When they kissed, quietly, behind one of the bushes after finally eluding the omnipresent gaggle of adoring fans, his gentleness surprised her. Krum possessed an imposing physical presence, and she had assumed that would translate to a more forceful experience. He waited for her, though, and after an initial moment of hesitation, she responded enthusiastically, reaching up to wrap her hands around his head. He seemed to delight in her, relish everything she gave him, and it was such a heady experience, being this adored, this appreciated. They kissed for a long time, until at last a shrill shriek alerted them to the reappearance of at least one of his fans. Then, smirking slightly, they rejoined the rest of the school on the dance floor.

Even with the whole Rita Skeeter mess and the minor scandal surrounding her time with Krum, she never regretted her brief time with him. Years later, they still kept in touch occasionally, and if he ever came to England, he always found time for lunch. Most girls couldn’t say that much about the first guy they kissed. 

 

Second

The second person who kissed her only ever kissed her once, and it bore no resemblance to any other experience she’d had before or to anything she’d have later. But Fred Weasley had always been singular. 

In their fifth year, Fred and Angelina had broken up yet again following Fred, George and Harry’s Quidditch ban. While everyone in Gryffindor possessed firsthand knowledge the volatility of their relationship (it was hard to ignore two people with voices that seemed to break through barriers and resist any soundproofing the stone walls provided), even she recognized the extreme nature of their most recent fight. She didn’t know Angelina as well as Harry or Ron, but she’d heard enough to know Fred and Angelina wouldn’t be reconciling any time soon. 

Some time after Christmas and the attack on Mr. Weasley, Hermione found herself sitting in the common room late one night. Ron and Harry had both succumbed to sleep an hour earlier, and only she still sat in front of the roaring fire that so deliciously warmed the soles of her feet as she pored over Goblin Rebellions: Volume II, 1634-1701. As fascinating as she found the history, as her eyes slowly drifted shut once more, she admitted to herself that perhaps she should join her two best friends in sleep.

“Still up, Granger?”

She recognized the voice as belonging to one of the twins, but she couldn’t distinguish between the two on voice alone. It didn’t change her response.

“Some of us care about our academics, you know.”

The twin snorted as he walked around and settled into the armchair across from her. Fred, then, she saw. There were always small differences between the two of them, like a different freckle pattern or the more pronounced devil-may-care persona Fred projected. This was Fred.

“You still think that with old Umbridge around?”

“My academic life doesn’t have to depend on what Umbridge says.”

“Too right you are. Now if you could only extend that carefree spirit to our other esteemed professors, and well,” he grinned, “you could be just like me.”

“Two of you is sufficient, I think.”

“Nonsense. The world lost a great opportunity the day George and I were born twins instead of triplets. Imagine what three such brilliant minds could accomplish when united behind a common purpose.”

“I’m betting you wouldn’t have made it past age seven. Something would have exploded. But I guess we’ll never know.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What are you even doing here, Fred? It is quite late, and George isn’t even around you so I’m guessing you weren’t up plotting something together.”

“George and I do differ, occasionally. It’s why I’m here right now actually. George thought this was a rather stupid idea, but I thought it could be worth a shot.”

“Should I bother asking?” she sighed.

“Actually, it’s me who’ll be doing the asking, Hermione dearest.” When she shot him another confused look, he continued. “Hermione Granger, how would feel about working with George and I on our new joke shop?”

For a moment, the words slid right by her, unprocessed, their utterly ludicrous meaning not fully sinking in. She’d always considered the twins to be quite smart in their own right, but Fred was displaying near Ron-levels of stupidity right now.

“I’m a little tired for practical jokes right now, Fred. Can’t we do this in the morning at least?”

Fred leaned forward in the chair, and the firelight flickered across his face, creating shadows in the hollows beneath his eyes and next to his nose. She hadn’t noticed how much prominence the dark circles beneath his eyes had gained. Whatever he and George were always doing, it had clearly left them with more than a few sleepless nights.

“I’m not joking, Hermione. I’m completely serious, if you can believe that.”

Still feeling a little shocked and incredulous, Hermione said, “Fred, you know how I feel about…what you do with the snackboxes and everything else. Surely you haven’t forgotten our last conversation about it?”

“The one where you threatened to tell mum? Not likely. I’m not asking you for help with the snackboxes though. As difficult as this may be to believe, but George and I have actually been developing quite a diverse range of products. Some, of course, are a bit more fun than others,” he smirked a little, but then his face returned to its strangely serious expression, “but others have practical applications outside the realm of practical jokes. That’s where you could come in.”

“Give me an example of something you think I would like to work on.”

“Shield charm hats,” he said. “Portable disguises. Lie detectors that are more inconspicuous that those whistling secrecy sensors. You think of it, Hermione, and we sell it in our shop.”

“That still involves working for a joke shop, Fred. Even if there are a few more serious items, most of what you do still involves turning people into canaries or giving them nosebleeds.”

It was Fred’s turn to sigh. “You’re thinking about this all wrong. Sure, you’d be working with us, and yes, our primary business is giving people a few laughs, but I guarantee you there’s no place where you’d have as much freedom, as much room for magical creativity. The ministry has rules, other organizations have set purposes. We,” he shrugged, “well we just want to make people laugh, and maybe offer the more serious product every now again. Other than that, no rules.”

“Rules aren’t always bad, Fred, especially when it comes to safety.”

“But they aren’t always good,” he responded earnestly. “Look at Umbridge! All of these rules, and to what effect? People just get more creative in working around them. I know for a fact you’ve done a few creative things yourself in your time.”  
“Such as?”

“Trapping a woman in a jar for months on end takes nerves, Granger. So does cursing the parchment we all signed when we joined the D.A.”

She blanched. “How did you…how could you know?

“We have ears everywhere, Hermione, and some are a bit subtler than our extendable ones. Plus, you think I couldn’t tell when a piece of parchment has that much magic on it? Please,” he said, feigning a wounded look, “think better of me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Ideally, that you’re dropping out of Hogwarts after this year to come join us. More realistically, that you’ll help us out over the summer and continue to work with us throughout next year from Hogwarts.”

“Fred,” she said weakly, “you know me. You know I would never—

“I thought I did know you, but then you surprised me. You’ve surprised me an awful lot in recent years. I never would have bothered asking first year Hermione, but I’d be a fool not to try asking the brightest witch I know now.”

She stood up. “You’re still a fool for asking, Fred Weasley. I think I’m going to bed now.”

He stood too, moving so that he was blocking her path to the staircase to the girls’ dormitory. “You never answered the question. Tell me that this doesn’t appeal to you at all, tell me that the idea of complete freedom where you can experiment with magic as much as you like doesn’t thrill you just a little bit, and I’ll let you go.” He moved in closer to her “Tell me it doesn’t excite you.”

“I have goals beyond working in a joke shop. I have Harry and Ron and You-Know-Who to consider. I can’t abandon all of those just because you come to me one night and try to flatter me into working with you. Besides,” she continued, almost thoughtfully, “since when have you paid this much attention to what I do?”

There was something unreadable in Fred’s eyes, and it scared her just a little. “Just because Ron has his head shoved so far up his arse that he can’t see what’s in front of him, doesn’t mean the rest of us Weasleys are so thickheaded.”

“What does that even—

Fred cut her off swiftly and in the most surprising way: kissing her. Fred Weasley, brilliant prankster and the more devious of the two Weasley twins, was kissing her. It wasn’t anything like Viktor, who’d been gentle and waiting for her. Fred pushed forcefully, and the sensation electrified her, shorted out any rational response until suddenly she realized she was kissing him back. Oh Merlin, she thought. What am I doing? What is he doing?

She yanked herself back, stumbling a little with the force. “What in Merlin’s name was that?”

“Come on, Hermione. Surely someone as smart as you doesn’t need someone like me to explain it to you.”

“Angelina—

“—and I are done. Rather loudly, in fact, in case you didn’t hear it last term,” he responded coolly. 

“Ron—

“—is my younger brother and not relevant to anything I feel.” 

She must have been wearing some shocked expression still, because his voice softened slightly. “Maybe he is to you, though Merlin knows why.” He shook his head, chuckling almost cynically to himself. “Never would have thought it would be Ron getting in the way for me. Always thought it would be George. Life’s full of surprises, eh Granger?”

“Fred, you know,” she swallowed hard, “you know I can’t. Not just because of Ron, too. It wouldn’t work. Any of it.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and stepped to the side, leaving room for her to pass him. “It wouldn’t be like me to not even try, not when the most brilliant witch in the country is sitting right here.” When she didn’t move, didn’t try to walk past him, he backed away even further. “You can forget I ever asked Hermione. This can all just be some sort of bad dream, something to join all of those blast-ended screwts in your nightmares.”

She still stood frozen to the floor. 

“I’ll leave then, Hermione. It’s late, right?” The smile on his face seemed somewhat forced, which was especially strange on Fred. He never needed to force a smile. “If you change your mind, well, you know where to find me. If not, like I said, forget this ever happened.”

She didn’t forget. 

She also didn’t tell anyone, and she didn’t know if Fred did either until after his funeral when she found George sitting alone, staring at Fred’s name carved into the stone. The grief of Fred’s death still marred his face, and she knew it would for a long time to come.

“Still here, Hermione?” came George’s stony voice as she approached from behind. She never knew how he knew it was her. 

“Just needed a moment to think.”

“That’s funny. I need a moment to not think.” He flashed her one of the most twisted attempts at a smile she’d ever witnessed. “Too much silence.”

“George, I’m so—

“I know, Hermione. You don’t need to say it.” He returned to staring at the cold marble, as if he could somehow see into it, see the laughing face of his twin in the glimmering light. 

She remained silent.

“He would have liked that you came here again. He always liked you, Hermione. Too much for his own good, given that you and Ron…”

“Did you know, George?”

“Did I know what?” The bitterness in his voice startled her a little.

“Did you know that one time, he kissed me?” Her voice trembled on the last three words.

Again, he turned to her, and this time the smile was sadder. It was almost too much to look at. 

“There was nothing I didn’t know about him. Nothing he didn’t know about me. So yes, I knew, Hermione. Still one of his stupidest ideas to date, asking you to work on the shop.”

“That’s a high bar. I’m sure there were more than a few ill-thought plans throughout the years.”

George chuckled briefly, but then the grief overcame him once more and the laughter faded as quickly as it had started. 

“I know everything about him.” An edge entered his voice. “Starting now, he won’t know everything about me. And the gap is just going to get bigger each day.” His hollow eyes looked right through her. 

“George—

“I appreciate you coming here, Hermione. I think you should go now, though.”

She didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue in the face of such overwhelming despair, of the void she saw in George’s expression.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time at George, still sitting on his chair, the grass damp beneath his feet and sky such a bright blue it hurt to look at straight on.

She made a promise to the man lying in the ground, the brother of the man she loved: I won’t forget. 

It was the least she could do. 

 

Third

The third person to kiss her was Ron, and it was a different sort of exhilarating—they were in the middle of a battle after all—but it was also perfect. As she flung herself around him, all she could think was that he had finally, finally, finally become the man she’d seen flashes of for years. It was a bit sloppier, a bit more forceful than anything with Krum, and their teeth clacked together, but given the circumstances they could be forgiven for imperfect technique. It was all hasty and rushed, but nothing had ever felt so right as this release of tension, as the crumbling of the mountain of tension which had lain between them for so many years.

“Oi!” shouted Harry, and she didn’t care. The war could wait for one more moment. Krum had liked her for her passion, Fred for her mind. Ron…Ron loved her for her, and she had waited so long for him. She didn’t know about the grief to come just yet, and for one shining moment she didn’t care about anything else in the entire world. 

The war could wait.


End file.
